


Sixty to Zero

by dessert_first



Category: due South
Genre: Car Sex, First Time, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray drove the GTO straight into the nearest dimly-lit alley, parked haphazardly behind some dumpsters and turned to face Fraser. "You <i>what</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixty to Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to and for beta.

**Sixty to Zero**

Ray drove the GTO straight into the nearest dimly-lit alley, parked haphazardly behind some dumpsters and turned to face Fraser. "You _what_?"

Fraser coughed. "I hope I'm not—if I've offended you in any way, Ray, I truly am sorry. I never meant—"

Ray clamped a hand over Fraser's mouth. Fraser's mouth stopped moving. It stayed slightly open, though, mid-sentence, his breath coming in warm, nervous gusts against Ray's fingers.

"You got the hots for me, Fraser?"

Fraser nodded slowly, careful not to dislodge Ray's hand. His eyes looked nervous.

"You wanna make intimate with me?"

Another nod, even slower, and Fraser looked down, his lashes very dark against his skin.

"You love me?"

Fraser was absolutely still, lashes cast so far down Ray wouldn't swear Fraser's eyes weren't closed. A muscle in Fraser's jaw twitched and his breath grew more uneven against Ray's hand.

Ray smiled.

"You love me," he said, gently. A statement. Fact.

Eyes screwed shut, Fraser gave one last, sharp nod.

And that's when Ray unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to replace the hand on Fraser's mouth with his lips. Fraser went completely still, and it was like kissing that pretty statue Fraser had made for Frannie, if the little wooden David had become life-sized. Ray pulled away. Maybe "having the hots" and "making intimate" didn't mean the same things in Canada as they did in America?

He pulled away, and the David came to life. Fraser grabbed him, big hands urgent on Ray's biceps, and pulled him back, and Fraser was kissing him, kissing him the same way he chased purse-snatchers and tracked perps, with complete focus and drive. Fraser had a total, single-fucking-minded drive to kiss Ray now. Ray kissed back, giving as good as he got, and God, sucking on Fraser's tongue, big and warm and soft and rough and all _over_ the place. He bit Fraser, just a little bit, and Fraser gasped into Ray's mouth and surged into him, closer, wrapping his arms around Ray, and Ray might be damaged but he was not stupid, not by a long shot, so he wrapped his own arms around Fraser's wide, strong shoulders and hauled him in even closer, the gear shift ridiculously uncomfortable and the car too small and the surface not horizontal enough and Fraser still had his damned seatbelt on but who the hell cared?

Ray wormed a hand between them, palming Fraser's crotch and oh yeah. Fraser was hard under there, and he made a funny keening noise and thrust up into Ray's hand. Ray burrowed his fingers up under the uniform tunic, shoving it up out of the way and groping fruitlessly at the fly until he finally managed to get Fraser's dick the hell out of those pants. Fraser gasped when Ray finally touched his cock, and it was so hot and so hard and felt better than anything had a right to, there in Ray's hand. Ray jerked it experimentally, once, twice, circled the head with his thumb and gathered up the seeping moisture, learning the feel of it, loving the feel of it. Fraser was going _fucking nuts_ , moaning and thrusting and scrabbling at Ray's shoulders with suddenly-clumsy hands.

"Ray," he gasped. "Ray, _Ray_!" and how could Ray take his hand away, how could he let go of him, how could he ever stop when Fraser was looking at him like that, his reserve cracked open and his emotions bleeding out all over the place?

This was all incredibly, monumentally stupid, jerking Fraser off in the GTO in a dark fucking _alley_ , but it would take a bigger man than Ray Kowalski to let go, drive sedately away and find a nice, clean, respectable place to fuck Fraser's brains out. It was addictive, the feel of Fraser's cock snug in his hand, the look on Fraser's face, his eyes wide and hungry, devouring Ray.

Ray put his free hand on Fraser's face, cupping his cheek, and Fraser leaned into the touch, closed his eyes and turned his head to press his lips to Ray's calloused palm. He breathed deeply, chest swelling under the bright red serge, crisscrossed by his lanyard and Sam Browne and that damned seatbelt. Ray just kept on jerking him, urgent strokes when he should've been tender, should've been softer, gentler, kinder. But Fraser was panting, frowning, reaching for it and Ray didn't have the heart to slow it down, make it nice and tidy and proper. He leaned over and kissed Fraser, his cheekbone, his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth and Fraser sucked Ray's fingers into his mouth and laved them with his tongue, eager and sloppy. He grasped Ray's hair and pulled him even closer, strained against the seatbelt to grab a fistful of Ray's jacket with his other hand and yank at it as if he would haul Ray across the car and onto his lap, as if he couldn't get enough of Ray, Ray's hands and mouth and body.

Ray kissed Fraser's lips, colliding with his own hand, and Fraser dove into the kiss like it was everything he'd ever wanted, kissed Ray sloppy and dirty until he cried out into Ray's mouth, wet spurts suddenly coating Ray's hand as Fraser came, shaking with it. Ray kissed him, softening his mouth, wanting to make it sweet for him. His hand slipped from Fraser's jaw into his hair and he stroked it, making soothing noises. "Yeah," he said. "You're good. You're so good."

Fraser leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, and let Ray pet him, let him whisper in his ear for a while. Finally he turned his head in Ray's direction and opened his eyes. When he smiled, joy lit his whole face. Ray hadn't seen Fraser look like that since they'd jumped out of a plane in Canada.

His hair was half-rumpled, half smoothed-over from Ray's fingers, and his tunic was shoved all out of place, bunching over his chest and stomach, making weird lumps of material over the mess of lanyard and belts.

Ray's chest felt tight from looking at him, like something was wrong in there. Like his insides had maybe rearranged themselves to make room for something new. It was terrifying.

It was amazing.

Fraser could—he could really—this had changed everything. Their whole world.

Leaning over, he kissed Fraser's smiling mouth, slipped a hand down Fraser's body to his seatbelt's clasp, and released it.


End file.
